


Bout

by Jacqueline Albright-Beckett (xaandria)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-30
Updated: 2013-10-30
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:19:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xaandria/pseuds/Jacqueline%20Albright-Beckett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Again, and again; each bout lasting no more than two or three seconds, and every one with Cas as the victor, either atop Dean on the floor or pinning him against the wall. Dean had started to sweat, a fine sheen that only intensified his indescribable scent that tugged at Cas’s brainstem in ways that were impossible to ignore.</em>
</p><p>Dean doesn't want to make Cas leave without teaching him to defend himself; Cas has trouble concentrating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bout

Dean jabbed at the light switch. With a flicker, the lights came on and gradually grew brighter. Dean peered around the room before shrugging. “Little dusty,” he remarked, “but it’ll still do.”

“Do for what?” Cas asked, eyeing the mats on the floor and the mirrored wall. The mirrors were smoky and warped with age, making their reflections waver as Dean pulled Cas closer to the center of the room.

“If you’re gonna be out there on your own,” Dean said, and the pained look that ghosted across his face made it clear he wasn’t ignoring the fact that it was because of Dean’s words that Cas would be “out there” at all, “you’re gonna need to learn how to handle yourself.” Dean squinted. “What?”

Carefully wiping the tiny grin from his face, Cas gestured. “No. Go on.” Dean was trying to give him something, trying to send him off into the world with more than what he’d had before. He should be grateful that Dean was sparing him such thoughts. He could easily have simply turned Cas out of the bunker with the clothes on his back and -

No. He could have done it, but it wouldn’t have been done easily. Even letting go with parting gifts and promises was as difficult for Dean as it was for Cas.

“Are you even listening?” Dean demanded.

Cas snapped his attention back to the present. “No,” he said honestly. “I’m sorry, I was…distracted. But I follow,” he said reassuringly.

“Right.” Dean didn’t sound very sure. He fell into a defensive position, legs apart, slightly hunched. “All right then. Come at me.”

His left heel was too far back. Only by a fraction of an inch, but it meant his center of gravity would be shifted very slightly forward. Cas nodded, lunged, and clipped Dean in the back of the right knee while ducking under and then driving Dean down with his torso pressed inexorably against Dean’s side. They fell heavily to the mat before Dean’s yelp of surprise finished leaving his lips.

“Like that?” Cas asked.

In a sudden flurry of limbs Dean twisted. He was trying to flip Cas over, get atop him and pin him and salvage this as a win. Cas let Dean work up the momentum to flip and then, with an almost lazy swat, added to that momentum and sent Dean sprawling atop Cas, with none of the control he’d intended. From there it was very simple to roll him into the exact position he’d been trying to attain seconds before.

Dean looked up at Cas, slightly winded and trying to hide it, and a grin began to spread across his face. “You son of a bitch. You already know all this.”

“I was a warrior for thousands of years, Dean.” He could feel Dean’s body heat bleeding through the canvas of his pants. “I don’t have the same strength or agility to work with, but this body does have reach and sufficient mass - and I’ve been in it for a while. I’m used to it.”

“So this is more or less useless.” Dean grunted as he tried to escape. “Lemme up.”

“Not useless.” The warmth that was beginning to suffuse him as he felt Dean rubbing against his thighs had nothing to do with temperature. Cas shifted and pushed himself to his feet before offering a hand to Dean to pull him from the ground. “My reaction time isn’t nearly what it used to be. Some non-lethal practice…might be good for me. As well as learning my limits.”

Dean wet his lips as he nodded, eyes trained carefully on Cas’s face, an oddly distracting expression that sent a splinter of pointed desire to the center of the gathering heat. Cas closed his eyes for a moment. Not now. Now was not a good time. The gentle admonitions, however, did little good, and with a sudden impact and dizzying fall forward, Cas realized that Dean had taken his off-guard moment as the perfect opportunity to launch an offensive maneuver. Cas managed to turn it into a roll and popped back up in a crouch a few feet away, refusing to give Dean another chance to take advantage of.

Dean was grinning widely now as he rose from his own crouch. His leg flashed out - clearly he was trying to plant a foot on Cas’s chest, sprawling him backwards on the ground while Dean remained upright - easily fouled by simply grabbing Dean’s leg just below the knee and yanking, using the momentum of the kick against him. With an indelicate “oof” Dean landed firmly on his bottom, legs splayed, with Cas looming above him; one solid shove and Dean was on his back as Cas’s knee pressed against his sternum. His eyes locked with Cas’s as he tried to take a deep breath; almost playfully, Cas pressed down harder, until Dean tapped against his calf with a hopeful smile. Cas let up immediately, pushing himself up and once again thrusting out a hand to pull Dean to his feet as well.

Again, and again; each bout lasting no more than two or three seconds, and every one with Cas as the victor, either atop Dean on the floor or pinning him against the wall. Dean had started to sweat, a fine sheen that only intensified his indescribable scent that tugged at Cas’s brainstem in ways that were impossible to ignore. Nor could he deny the flares of want that burned in his middle, or the way his cock stirred half-hard and heavy against the lining of his pants, or the way he nearly unconsciously seemed to be selecting defenses that would put his body in as much contact with Dean’s as possible. The more desperately he tried to ignore the nearly overbearing arousal, the more attention he seemed to be giving it - and Dean.

Dean, who was beneath him yet again, hair mussed, breath coming in heaves. Cas had him pinned by the upper arms, the rest of his body weight settled on Dean’s thighs, the nearness of him so close to overwhelming that Cas’s ears were ringing with the strain of holding back -

And then Dean’s tongue lapped out to wet his lower lip, eyes still trained intently on Cas’s, and whatever ragged shreds of self-control Cas had left fled.

It was not gentle - it was how he had been this whole time: swift, deliberate, holding nothing back. One hand slid behind Dean’s head as Cas leaned down and caught at that lower lip with more than a little teeth, toying with it as Dean went slack-jawed in surprise, his torso tensing - and then, miraculously, relaxing. Dean’s arms, free now, went to curl around Cas’s back, pulling him down against Dean’s chest as Dean responded to Cas’s lips with astonishing ardor.

Fully hard, now, and nearly achingly so, Cas shifted to drag his hips against Dean, only to discover Dean’s rapidly stiffening erection straining against the denim of his jeans. That knowledge - that Dean was alight with the same desire Cas harbored - sent another surge of pleasure through Cas as he shamelessly ground against Dean, making a small noise of contentment as Dean’s hips rose from the mat to meet Cas’s artless strokes.

Too much; there was far too much between them, cloth and zippers and buttons that intruded on their sudden single driving need to touch one another. Cas fumbled one-handed at Dean’s belt buckle until Dean reached between them to undo it, hands then going nimbly to the task of unbuttoning Cas’s pants. Dean made a soft sound of surprise against Cas’s lips at the lack of underwear; Cas could only imagine the slight shock of reaching and expecting to find cotton and instead finding warm, velvet flesh.

Dean’s touch was hesitant, the first hesitant thing Dean had done all day; Cas thrust into his hand encouragingly, hastening to unzip Dean’s jeans and wrap his own hand around Dean’s cock. Cas had held his own cock before, had stroked himself to completion more than once; he knew what the feel of it was, but he was unprepared for the feel of Dean’s: a little thicker, and not as long, perhaps, though it was difficult to tell. The head was already slick when Cas swiped his thumb over it, and he was entirely unprepared for the sound this elicited from Dean: a sort of guttural moan that reverberated against Cas’s lips, followed by a gasp as Dean pulled back slightly.

“Cas,” he said thickly, voice deeper and huskier than Cas was used to. The eyes that locked with Cas’s were filled with need, pupils blown wide, but at the same time a shadow of disbelief clouded them.

Reluctantly, but knowing that to press too far would be disastrous, Cas slackened his grip on Dean’s cock and started to pull his hand away when Dean shook his head and caught at Cas’s wrist.

“Don’t.” Dean licked his lips again and swallowed, eyelids fluttering half-shut as he guided Cas’s hand back to where it had been. “Just…go slower.” The tiniest quirk of an eyebrow. “It’s been a while.”

Cas wasn’t sure he understood the significance of the statement, but it hardly mattered - he was fairly certain that Dean could request anything from him at that moment and Cas would deliver. His strokes along Dean’s length became slow, almost teasing things, and a tiny growl purred at the back of Cas’s throat as Dean’s hand slowed to the same rate, rendering Cas nearly gasping with the need for release. Every other time it had been quick, a rapid build to a swift, sharp crescendo. But Dean seemingly slowed time, and now it was like the tide coming in, a tight coil twisting around itself deep in Cas’s middle as he rocked his hips to meet with Dean’s measured strokes.

And all at once, there it was; Cas teetered on the precipice for a breathless eternal moment, eyes fluttering closed and in the split-second before the tension snapped, his mouth made the shape of Dean’s name. Only the shape, because then everything was trembling pulses that wracked his body with forces of pleasure he still had not grown accustomed to and for the space of several shaky breaths, he lost himself.

He was dimly aware of Dean beneath him, flinching slightly as his chest was spattered. Dean faltered for a moment, and then just as Cas was blinking away stars, moaned a slightly surprised “Oh,  _fuck_ ,” and jerked his hips upwards, thrusting into Cas’s grip twice before shuddering and giving voice to a wordless grunt as he came.

Cas didn’t know how long they lay there, tangled together and breathing in staggered gasps that gradually grew slower and deeper. Cas had slumped to the side and was only partly sprawled atop Dean, but Dean still stirred too soon. “Cas, you’re heavy.”

The air around them had an oddly soft quality to it, pressing against Cas as he rose to his knees and worked at the button and zipper on his pants. He kept his eyes low, aware that at the edge of his vision Dean was doing the same, and removing and wadding up his mussed outer shirt besides.

He was abruptly struck with the absolute lack of words that presented themselves in his mind.

This had not been sex, precisely, though he was hard-pressed to come up with any other term for it; as the experience settled in his mind he was shocked at the intimacy of it. His other experience faded in comparison as a mere exploration of carnal greed. This had been…

Once again, words failed him - until a notion struck him.

“Is that what it’s like when you love the person?”

He didn’t realize he’d spoken the words aloud until he lifted his eyes to see Dean frozen, still kneeling on the mat, looking at Cas as though this was the first time he’d ever seen him.

And then, the tiniest shrug. “Apparently.”

Dean pushed himself to his feet, offering a hand to Cas to pull him up. Clearing his throat, Dean glanced down at the shirt in his other hand. “I’m…I need to process this,” he said flatly, a faint flush touching his ears. “I don’t…I’m not…”

Cas nodded. “More than one reason for me to leave, then.”

Dean looked stricken, as though he’d forgotten the words they’d exchanged earlier. “No, that’s - it’s not a reason for you to leave.”

“I still need to, though.” It wasn’t even a question anymore. Cas had accepted Dean’s stumbling explanations of Kevin and the angel tablet and the necessity of keeping the bunker a secret, and had chosen to take them at face value. Cas was willing to accept that Dean wouldn’t lie unless he had good reason.

“You still need to,” Dean clarified, though he didn’t sound nearly as sure of himself as he had earlier.

Cas nodded again, looking towards the door. Once they walked through it, something would be ending. Something more than this moment. He wasn’t sure what.

Dean cleared his throat and looked up into Cas’s eyes and held his gaze. “Don’t…go too far. You need to go. But I don’t want you gone.”


End file.
